tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-57072832011-04-22T10:48:40.806+08:00irreverence and irrelevance from a smart, sexy, Filipina writer, grammarian, trivia buff, comic book creator, compulsive reader, gamer, wife, and momNikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comBlogger3681100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1158299597226913972006-09-15T13:43:00.000+08:002006-09-15T13:55:57.296+08:00

bibliobibuli: "There are those who become drunk on books, as on wine or similar intoxicants."--from Jeffrey Kacirk's Forgotten EnglishBy the way, for the kind people who've expressed interest in my play, you can find it and the really much better stuff that won the Palancas here, thanks to the redoubtable Ian.Thanks to Banzai Cat and all the other terrific folk who congratulated me on the

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1157000082014764742006-08-31T12:34:00.000+08:002006-08-31T12:54:42.026+08:00

August has been an extremely lucky month for me. I'm getting my second Palanca tomorrow night (Yippee!); have received confirmation that seven of my stories and one comics script have been accepted for publication in various, um, publications; am going off today to see if the publication I was in last year (Dean's Philippine Spec Fic vol. 1) will win a National Book Award (We're hoping for the

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1156308242002476202006-08-23T12:32:00.000+08:002006-08-23T12:44:02.016+08:00

Received a stunning 36 incidences of spam today, all on the same topic.Listen, spammers, there is nothing wrong with my erection, okay? Geez.Speaking of Dr. Seuss (if you didn't get the title reference, you are clearly the victim of a deprived childhood), I splurged and got Sage the hardbound Seuss collection over at Fully Booked. It may seem pricey at around P1,700, but considering that your

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1156224305446997012006-08-22T13:03:00.000+08:002006-08-22T13:30:29.300+08:00

Okay, one of the reasons I haven't been posting is that I'm no longer pleased with the look of the blog--it was designed to accommodate a side blog, but now it looks like the folks at sideblog.com have shut down, so now there's no point in the three-column layout, which irritates me, but I don't have enough time for a proper redesign. Urgh.On a happier note, my short story, Heritage, has been

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1154657684262300382006-08-04T10:14:00.000+08:002006-08-04T10:16:24.686+08:00

Yes, I know it's been a long while.I'll be back eventually; but for now, Sage, at least, is blogging again.Check out her latest entry here.

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1149565238888655772006-06-06T11:19:00.000+08:002006-06-06T17:15:48.250+08:00

Last night, my husband and I were watching House, the medical drama that focuses on the brilliant but infuriating, eponymously named Dr. House. The featured illness for the episode was Multiple Sclerosis, which you may or may not know is a progressive disease that attacks the nervous system, compromising mental and physical ability, sometimes to the point where the patient cannot speak, walk, or

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1149048060935304452006-05-31T11:58:00.000+08:002006-05-31T12:03:07.510+08:00

adapted from the Visayan folktaleThe king of all the animals was very tired one evening and wanted to rest. But he could not sleep because he kept hearing the high-pitched, croaking laughter of his frog guards outside his chamber. Enraged, he summoned his guards and ordered them put to death in front of him.“But sire,” protested the frogs, “it was only because we saw the snail crawling by,

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1145599496758316682006-04-21T14:02:00.000+08:002006-04-21T14:04:56.766+08:00

Because people keep asking me about it, I’ve decided to put up a sort of online crash course on copywriting. This will be a series, published weekly or, you know, whenever I happen to feel like it.So just what is copywriting?You probably know the textbook definition, but I’ll paraphrase it anyway: copywriting is the development of text and concept for the purpose of advertising, marketing, and/or

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1145337214058361472006-04-18T13:06:00.000+08:002006-04-18T13:13:34.073+08:00

Whoopee! Vin has selected my submission as the opening story for his dragon anthology; I'm just tickled persimmon (which, you know, is kind of like "pink", but more intense). Here's the first few hundred words of the story.AFTER LIVING A year and a day atop the Glass Mountain, Mariska determined that the time had come to return to the village she had left behind, and even to the people who had

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1145268430348850252006-04-17T17:53:00.000+08:002006-04-17T18:07:10.753+08:00

I've changed my email address because I'm sick of the spam: no, my love life does not need a boost; no, I am not interested in low cost, high quality stock; no, I am not drowning under the weight of my mortgage (and even if I were, your mixed metaphor would ensure that I do not turn to you, you illiterate spammer, you); and no, my penis does not require enhancement.Anyway, if you happen to have

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1143616216673152402006-03-29T15:07:00.000+08:002006-03-29T15:10:16.676+08:00

I’ve been blog-silent for over a month. So look, in order to prevent this sort of thing from recurring, here’s what I need you to say to me next December, when clients start offering me their annual reports and sundry projects for the first quarter of the coming year. You will know it’s time to speak up when you see visions of peso signs dancing over my head, in lieu of the seasonal sugar

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1143615919151631582006-03-29T14:55:00.000+08:002006-03-29T15:05:19.166+08:00

Sage turned four and I turned thirty-three. My birthday has mysteriously been going on for over a month now, with Husband showering me with a plethora of presents that culminated in an iPod with video last week. Isn’t he just the bestest? Among other things, he also gave me a new worktable and a hardcover edition of Matt Wagner’s Mage: the Hero Defined.Which is why I’m treating myself to a

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1139123361513113932006-02-05T14:26:00.000+08:002006-02-05T15:10:14.683+08:00

Sage's fourth birthday is rolling around on February 14th, and we are having the usual party for her on the 18th (because we are not delusional enough to expect people to actually show up on a Tuesday which also happens to be Valentine's day!) That'll be a day before my birthday as well, so it will sort of be a joint celebration. I say "sort of" because, you know, a Disney Princess costume party

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1138856969496978102006-02-02T13:04:00.000+08:002006-02-02T13:09:29.510+08:00

My friend Jaime (I pronounce it "Jamie", but spell it the Irish way) has a blog! He is a publisher, an accomplished writer/artist, a superlative singer, and, to me, the very definition of the word "amiable". Check out his Small Slice of Life.

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1138686512736186372006-01-31T13:43:00.000+08:002006-01-31T13:48:32.750+08:00

(part four of a four-part short story)“How long did you think you could conceal her nature beneath a fountain?” the leader asked Madame Astranzia contemptuously, even as he viciously kicked in the door to the Vermilion Room, the lovers’ haven of choice for that evening.The normally-genteel doyenne bristled with outrage as she replied, “You are mistaken, I assure you; and you will regret this

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1138166809583861862006-01-25T12:59:00.000+08:002006-01-25T13:26:49.703+08:00

The wonderful people over at Our Own Voice have decided to publish my short story, Heritage, previously seen in this here blog. Gracious editor Reme just emailed me out of the blue--which is probably the absolute best way I have ever gotten any work of mine published, because I didn't have to write anything new, and I didn't have to go through the anxiety of wondering whether my submission would

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1138076327966453642006-01-24T12:14:00.000+08:002006-01-24T12:21:09.110+08:00

(part three of a four-part short story)“I love you,” Nicolas said to Sorrow, as they lay in the starlit dark of the Ebon Room, the sourceless chirping of crickets becoming audible once more in the aftermath of their first time together. He was fresh from yet another victory at the front then, and nearly swaggering with it before he first caught speechless sight of her in her fountain-pool,

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1137995555594662762006-01-23T13:48:00.000+08:002006-01-23T13:53:49.403+08:00

I don't usually do the quiz thing, but I spotted this one over at Alex's, and the result was just too funny for me not to post.Take this quiz at QuizGalaxy.comCue earthquake-calamity footage with Twin Peaks soundtrack.

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1137655939292009722006-01-19T14:45:00.000+08:002006-01-19T15:36:08.066+08:00

...If you trust in yourself... and believe in your dreams... and follow your star...""Yes?""... you'll still get beaten by people who spent their time working hard and learning things and weren't so lazy.--The Wee Free Men, Terry PratchettThis is probably the smartest thing I have ever read in a written work meant for young audiences. Mr. Pratchett is so much "my man Terry" because he's never

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1137653043584244472006-01-19T14:35:00.000+08:002006-01-19T15:38:52.966+08:00

Because, among myriad other reasons, Dean has seen fit to order us up a DSL connection that at last saves me from the agony and frustration of dial-up--and saves you, fellow blogger, from my unjust ire when I have spent seventy years patiently waiting for your blog to load only to learn that you have posted nothing new.(Note that I am hardly innocent of this crime myself; but I did say "unjust",

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1137480319882883542006-01-17T14:38:00.000+08:002006-01-17T14:45:19.886+08:00

(part two of a four-part short story)Here, atop an irysk-fur rug mottled a pleasing indigo and cream, was strewn a sultan’s ransom of pillows hand-stitched by the otherwise-violent desert tribeswomen of the distant South; each pillow encrusted with semiprecious gems and thread of silver and gold, yet soft to the touch as the skin of the aptly-named courtesan Velvet, who hailed from that region

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1137121201500324392006-01-13T10:27:00.000+08:002006-01-14T13:03:55.866+08:00

Yes, I know this is a tad belated. Blame it on the jet lag.1. Lose the seven pounds I gained over the holidays. Stupid American-sized food portions. Now I utterly have to do this or risk no longer being able to slip my calves into my sexy new black boots. Will go back on the diet next week (because the mango cream pie someone gave us prevents my doing it now!); am up to 60 ab crunches a day, and

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1137058394774746582006-01-12T17:31:00.000+08:002006-01-12T17:38:35.963+08:00

Okay, this is for my friend Gigi, who wanted to know if she should know about “anything blog-related beyond posting or simple design”. Now I happen to think everyone should know about keywords, but not many people do. So here we go…Quite simply, the “keywords” meta tag* allows web spiders** to find your site. (If that sentence didn’t seem “simple” to you at all, zip down to the bottom of this

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1136846612764269822006-01-10T06:35:00.000+08:002006-01-10T07:00:09.943+08:00

(part one of a four-part short story)You must understand that all of this occurred some thirteen years ago, when I was young still and the Empire had but newly begun its campaign to rid the realm of the Wildness.We were told—and not without foundation—that the Wild represented a threat to the ongoing unification of the realm, dispersed as they were throughout the lands, yet uncontrolled by any

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1136483891460777152006-01-06T01:16:00.000+08:002006-01-06T12:36:03.826+08:00

...from our two-week sojourn in Florida, visiting my mom, stepdad, brother, and sister-in-law for the holidays. We generally had a hell of a time, though mostly all we did was shop* (which I'm sure my friend Gigi would agree does indeed constitute "a hell of a time"). We did manage to find time to go to a few parties, and visit the nearby (in Florida terms, that is) Alligator Farm. Contrary to

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1134883214696937772005-12-18T13:00:00.000+08:002005-12-18T13:20:14.736+08:00

The Alfar family will be out of the country and incommunicado (At least I will be!) till after New Year's. Happy Holidays, and see you when we get back!

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1134590670860153212005-12-15T04:01:00.000+08:002005-12-15T04:08:11.080+08:00

Of course y’all are instantly protesting the title, because the majority of my readers are nice and trigger-happy with the compliments. (Not that I’m complaining, mind you.) But really, over the past 22 years of cognizance (I don’t count the first ten because I was basically in a vegetative state at the time. Let’s face it; we all were), I have learned that my brain rather inarguably has certain

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1134362441209466012005-12-12T11:42:00.000+08:002005-12-12T12:50:55.710+08:00

Hell of a day last Saturday! I had to get up at the crack of six a.m. (at which time, I have often reiterated, I am barely human, let alone sentient). But it was for dear friends' Kate and Alex's wedding, so I was willing to make the heroic sacrifice to see them get hitched at last (and make sure neither of them went screaming off into the hills due to stress-induced insanity!). And it was in the

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1134110868353245332005-12-09T14:41:00.000+08:002005-12-09T15:00:45.330+08:00

I’ll readily admit that the yearly Starbucks giveaway planner is a thing of beauty; but when you’re blessed with a good cell phone and a memory like mine, really, the whole point of a planner is pretty much redundant. And unlike my friend Zarah, I just don’t drink that much coffee. So I never participate in the annual scramble to accumulate enough Starbucks stickers to earn A Planner of Mine

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1133945560170792842005-12-07T16:47:00.000+08:002005-12-07T16:57:44.776+08:00

My friend Vianney's revamped blog is up, and of course I did the revamping (which is mainly why I'm telling you about it, but it's also well worth checking out because she's a very informative and intelligent writer). Modesty aside, I think it looks positively yummy. You'll see what I mean if you click here.

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1133945103113733292005-12-07T16:35:00.000+08:002005-12-07T16:45:03.180+08:00

I lived in Makati for more than half my life, so perhaps the city herself took my relocation to the Ortigas area as a sort of betrayal. This would certainly explain why bad things seem to happen to me lately whenever I set foot in the area. Last time, I got into a car accident (not my fault; and obviously I survived it, so don’t y’all fret).Today I arrived at my client’s office building on Makati

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1133418462586740112005-12-01T14:15:00.000+08:002005-12-01T15:17:57.520+08:00

Do you remember when we moved back into my family's old house, and they cut off the electricity because it turned out my father hadn't paid the damn bill in ten frickin' years? We also had no phone because he hadn't paid those bills either, and we had to pay people to deliver us water because there simply was no running water.For part of a month, we had no shower, no phone, no TV, no computer, no

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1133162943003380552005-11-28T15:25:00.000+08:002005-11-28T15:29:03.016+08:00

We are so proud of our little girl.If you want to know why, check it out here.

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1133161519433031192005-11-28T15:01:00.000+08:002005-11-28T15:05:19.446+08:00

If this entry sounds snotty and disagreeable, that’s only because it is. Hey, I never promised y’all a rose garden. And it’s just peculiar how people persist in thinking of me as some kind of sweet person when I’m really, you know, not. I am prickly and particular, so if, for some unfathomable reason, you still want to be my friend, you would be best served by observing the following:1. Unless

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1132896975360508702005-11-25T13:32:00.000+08:002005-11-25T13:44:29.553+08:00

Figaro, 2nd floor, the PodiumIf you’re a smokin’ type of woman* (and I mean that both literally and figuratively) in need of an ego boost, try hanging out at the Podium’s Figaro from early to mid-afternoon on a weekday. They have great coffee and a smoking section, which at that time of day is packed practically exclusively with men doing business (or pretending to do business, or doing other

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1132599421792709212005-11-22T02:53:00.000+08:002005-11-22T03:03:35.980+08:00

Christmas changed for me the year we kicked the U.S. bases out of the Philippines. That was the year the U.S. Navy stopped importing live Christmas trees, which my mother, being a Navy employee, would previously get for us every holiday season.I suspect that Mom was really more relieved than disappointed, since live pine trees actually tend to be more trouble than the artificial ones—they need

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1131519067313280972005-11-09T14:46:00.000+08:002005-11-09T14:51:07.326+08:00

And I will finally, finally, finally be done with the Engrish translation thing, just beating my self-imposed deadline by the hair of Dean's chinny-chin-chin. (My own is hairless, thank you very much.)Therefore we will soon be returning to our regularly-scheduled smartassedness, I promise.

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1130395259099920212005-10-27T14:34:00.000+08:002005-10-27T14:40:59.113+08:00

I spent last Sunday morning snickering, because when you're husband's a playwright and your daughter's really too clever to only be three, some days, you wake up to things like this. (If you've checked Dean's blog today, then you've already read this account.)

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1130306913770688002005-10-26T13:54:00.000+08:002005-10-26T14:11:25.330+08:00

Is this not the cutest t-shirt design ever? It's called "Fish Ball Deluxe", and was created by my friend Pepper Roxas (whom I know I've never talked to y'all about before, but she's an awesome artist and an awesome person) for a contest over at Threadless.Basically, people vote for the t-shirt design of their choice, and the design with the most votes gets turned into an actual line of t-shirts.

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1130226310293465792005-10-25T15:44:00.000+08:002005-10-25T15:45:10.303+08:00

Let’s talk grammar today, shall we? Don’t worry, my writerly comrades, this is probably something you already do instinctively; I’m just going to clarify why we do it, and how it works.The principle is called precedence of description. (You probably already gathered that from the title of this entry, yeah?) What it means is that there is an order we are supposed to apply when using descriptive

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1129882782567547962005-10-21T15:34:00.000+08:002005-10-21T16:19:42.636+08:00

I found a new widget for my blog. It's a ranking system, but instead of rating your blog's popularity, like most, it instead measures technical performance, including load speed, design logic, coding standards, marketing, and so on.You probably think you don't care about that kind of stuff, but you should! Three reasons why:1. Because we all love validation, and that's exactly what this is. Don't

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1129738091866610642005-10-20T00:06:00.000+08:002005-10-20T15:08:22.916+08:00

As much as signs and advertisements all across the city make me go around wincing all the time, the names of Metro Manila laundromats rarely fail to put a smile on my face. A few stellar examples:Lavandera Ko: so ubiquitous, most people don’t realize it’s a pun. You can pronounce it “labandera ko”, meaning “my laundrywoman”, or “lavender ako”, in reference to its signature purple logo and

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1129737846861610112005-10-19T22:42:00.000+08:002005-10-20T00:05:50.316+08:00

“Mom,” my three-year-old daughter said to me after her pre-school let out for the day, “everyone in my school is having sex.”“What?” I asked her, dropping what I was doing.“Sex,” Sage repeated. “All my classmates.”As I stared at her in shock and disbelief, she proceeded to clarify: “Maxine has sick. Hanson has sick. Edwin has sick. Everybody is having sicks.”She was a little ticked off when her

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1129618564768100632005-10-18T14:53:00.000+08:002005-10-18T15:04:07.606+08:00

There will be no short story, vignette, or poem today, in direct consequence of the incredibly, abysmally, monumentally suck-ass day I had yesterday. Instead, let me tell you aalll about it.First, the setup: Last Friday, my laptop simply refused to charge its battery. Nuh-uh, it informed me, smugly flashing its “critical battery” light, won’t do it, shan’t do it, ain’t gonna, you can’t make me do

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1129185282013593032005-10-13T14:27:00.000+08:002005-10-13T15:19:14.146+08:00

It’s Vin, I think, who first started calling me “editrix”—which, yes, is the feminized version of the noun “editor”; but which also, I suspect, is meant to evoke the sense of the word “dominatrix” as well. Don’t think I haven’t picked up on that, Vinnie-Boy!Anyway, my friend Cathy, who is considering a bit of a career shift, asked me for a brief rundown on just what it is an editor does. And

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1129087471693796452005-10-12T11:15:00.000+08:002005-10-12T11:24:31.700+08:00

I haven't been posting too frequently lately, but just look at the kind of thing I have to try and translate into comprehensible English:Oh, the sorrow too is the strength to live. The anger too is the strength to live... Somebody said so, didn't he? Since I cannot trust myself anymore, isn't there only method to live with the anger against those who made me not to trust myself with the sorrow of

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1129008106479616562005-10-11T13:12:00.000+08:002005-10-11T13:21:46.503+08:00

Blood gushed unchecked from between her mother’s legs, as the midwife urged her to push, push, push. They lived by the sea, that brought them their food and demanded their toil; and it was in their storm-tossed shanty, attended only by a midwife with no tools but clean cloths and hot water, that her mother died bringing her into the world.Tears did not fall from her father’s eyes—not then, as her

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1127931319115120332005-09-29T02:11:00.000+08:002005-09-29T02:18:36.733+08:00

Okay, I don’t mean to diss the no-doubt-perfectly-nice fella who posted the phrase on my tagboard; but what is this thing with people constantly prefacing or ending their comments—whether written or spoken—with the mantra “wala lang”? What does it mean?Awright, technically I know what it means. (Even I am not that ignorant of my native tongue.) But what do we mean by it? (… is what I mean. You

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1127836171491665622005-09-27T23:37:00.000+08:002006-08-23T17:21:51.950+08:00

(part 4 of a 5-part short story)Like Tony, the twins, too, were victims of a vehicular mishap. They had decided to conduct a pulse-pounding bicycle race across the flat roof of our house (“And when did you acquire the delusion that you were circus performers?!” my mother demanded of them at the hospital) and ended up pedaling their way to the local emergency room. Charlie had broken his good

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1127461895955813132005-09-23T14:39:00.000+08:002005-09-23T16:10:04.766+08:00

Every morning, regardless of the current state of our perennially-insufficient cigarette supply, Dean makes sure to leave me at least one stick for when I wake up (groggy and nicotine-starved, usually well after he’s left the house). You probably have to be a smoker to truly appreciate that this is love.Love, actually--to quote Hugh Grant from that sappy movie of the same name--is all around us.

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1127330232684640152005-09-22T02:58:00.000+08:002005-09-22T13:14:32.503+08:00

Once again, it's time to congratulate the winners of the Annual Stella Awards. The Stellas are named after 81-year-old Stella Liebeck, who spilled coffee on herself and successfully sued McDonald's. That case inspired the Stella Awards for the most frivolous successful lawsuits in the United States.7th PlaceKathleen Robertson of Austin, Texas was awarded $780,000 by a jury of her peers after she

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1127197030012950512005-09-20T13:59:00.000+08:002005-09-20T14:17:10.020+08:00

I'm actually referring to that guy over at the Peanut Gallery blog. Dean says:Kestrel IMC, my integrated marketing communications company, is in the process of hiring designers. Our client list includes Levi's, Dockers, Level Up! Games, Purefoods, Globe, San Miguel, Tagaytay Highlands, SM, and more.We're looking for smart, talented people who have great visual and design sensibilities, who can

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1127195239144770382005-09-20T13:38:00.000+08:002005-09-20T13:47:19.146+08:00

(part 3 of a 5-part short story)Although my own blind faith in Lola’s inviolability lessened predictably over the years, I was still willing to afford her the benefit of the doubt throughout my adolescence, given the implausible yet overwhelming wealth of repeatedly-occurring supporting evidence.When my eldest brother Tony turned eighteen at last and claimed his driver’s license at the earliest

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1126855541918012822005-09-16T14:44:00.000+08:002005-09-16T16:07:21.296+08:00

The current task that takes up about twelve hours of my day every day is translating an upcoming Korean-made computer game from "Engrish" to English. It's mind-numbing work, although replete with moments of disbelieving hilarity that, sadly, I cannot share with y'all due to the terms of our implicit non-disclosure agreement. As I snicker at the Koreanovela-class original text, however, I realize

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1126549038736815082005-09-13T02:12:00.000+08:002005-09-20T13:36:34.520+08:00

(part 2 of a 5-part short story)She was not actually my grandmother—rather, she was a distant cousin of my mother’s late mother, and had come to help my parents out when my mother had unexpectedly given birth to twins, resulting in a household graced or cursed with no less than four rambunctious boys under the age of five. The principal of the school in which Lola then worked had strenuously

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1126509825375022272005-09-12T14:57:00.000+08:002005-09-12T15:49:16.076+08:00

I can only assume that y'all killed my virtual fighting fish by overfeeding it, as I haven't seen the poor thing on my monitor in a couple of weeks now. I would not have thought a pixel piscene could perish from obesity, but there ya go, you learn something new every day, yeah?So I'm replacing the unfortunately deceased Petty the Pet (Oh, the tragedy!) with my new WeatherPixie, which I call a "

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1126357170125361272005-09-10T19:02:00.000+08:002005-09-10T20:59:31.383+08:00

Yes, viewing Jay-R is a pleasure all on its own (Ain't it, though, ladies?), but really, I'm not just talking about him. I'm smugly telling you that Dean and I got to watch Footloose: the Musical today, courtesy of my very generous friend Oliver, who was kind enough to reserve us a couple of tickets for the press showing.Now I had of course seen singer/dancer Jay-R before now (most notably in

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1126075603808300852005-09-07T14:06:00.000+08:002005-09-07T14:46:43.870+08:00

Cathy's new blog design is up! Cathy is my "ringmate" (pretty sure that's not actually a word) from the Slinging Ink writers' webring, and she's actually had this layout in her head for some time; she just didn't know how to implement it. So she emailed Your Friendly Neighborhood Me, and voila! Here's a brand-new blog design I'd probably never have come up with myself (because pink as a primary

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1125936747920547352005-09-06T00:08:00.000+08:002005-09-20T13:32:16.160+08:00

(part 1 of a 5-part short story)During the basketball season when I was young, Lola Ging would ritually invoke divine intervention on behalf of the Crispa Redmanizers. This was a lengthy process which required the assemblage of certain arcane paraphernalia: her hand-high stack of well-thumbed Spanish novena pamphlets; the current favored rosary out of her vast international collection; and two

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1125653206737484102005-09-02T17:03:00.000+08:002005-09-02T17:31:02.003+08:00

So last night was the official awarding ceremony for the Palancas, at whichButch. Dalisay. Congratulated. Me.Personally and everything, by which I mean "not as an aside when he was really engaged in conversation with Dean." Lemme 'splain the unmitigated glee precipitated by this occurrence:There is a table at the annual Palanca awards which, over the years, Dean and I have come to refer to as "

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1125470749917329392005-08-31T14:42:00.000+08:002005-08-31T14:45:49.926+08:00

Dean's been getting on my case for never announcing (even to him, sometimes) when I've been published in the occasional periodical. It's not that I don't value these things, really; it's just that I whip the pieces out as quickly as I can once the assignments are passed to me, with the result that I've sort of forgotten about them by the time they come out. In fact, I don't always know when they

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1125384004975883542005-08-30T14:15:00.000+08:002005-08-30T14:42:36.310+08:00

since losing (now around 28 pounds of) weight:Strangers bump into me—literally—a whole lot more than they used to. Seriously, it’s getting so that I can’t walk across a public place on my own without having to perform an entire yoga routine to avoid collision. I don’t know why this should be so--I mean, I’m reasonably sure I wasn’t that much bulkier before. Or was I? Did I, in fact, bestride the

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1125049074091515392005-08-26T17:32:00.000+08:002005-08-26T17:37:54.096+08:00

“Only your fiancé would send fruit instead of flowers,” Shelly pointed out at the office, a few days later. She was perched on Kit’s desk next to the basket of apples, oranges, grapes, and pears that a messenger had just delivered. “So what did Ramon do to piss you off this time?”“The usual, only more of the same,” Kit replied. She was hunched over her keyboard working on the Magbalang story. “Go

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1124946290152593692005-08-25T13:01:00.000+08:002005-08-25T13:04:50.160+08:00

“Are you a ghost?!” Kit demanded, later that week. “The carpenters say they haven’t seen hide or hair of you throughout this whole renovation. Do you have some secret way of getting in and out of this house, or am I the one who’s crazy?”“Why would I leave the house when I have plants to tend?” asked Lola Basyang. She was on her knees, working a trowel through the soil in front of her as placidly

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1124861090856948262005-08-24T13:14:00.000+08:002005-08-24T13:24:50.866+08:00

The old house smelled of sampaloc when Kit went back a week later.“I made your favorite,” Lola announced brightly, bustling about the kitchen. “Sinigang na hipon.” Kit trailed her around the room, surreptitiously peeking into cabinets and shelves as she passed. There was still hardly anything in there: some of the digestive crackers her father had favored, a half-eaten jar of Lily’s peanut butter

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1124775664261274412005-08-23T13:33:00.000+08:002005-08-23T14:17:47.986+08:00

This is one of the two stories I ended up not submitting for Dean's antho. I don't particularly like it anymore--less than a month after I wrote it!--but there are some interesting bits here and there.Kit found Lola Basyang on the back porch of the old family home, stitching contentedly as she sat in Kit’s father’s old-fashioned wood-and-wicker lounging chair. She looked exactly as anyone would

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1124693392009082882005-08-22T13:29:00.000+08:002005-08-22T14:55:53.670+08:00

Smug because I actually accomplished quite a bit last week, yet the projects are lining up, which means I will have some nice challenges and even nicer paychecks in the foreseeable near future. Frazzled because although I actually accomplished quite a bit last week, the projects are lining up, which means I will have some nice challenges--albeit even nicer paychecks--in the foreseeable near

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1124344769200807832005-08-18T13:29:00.000+08:002005-08-18T15:56:42.830+08:00

At last I'm free!For a second, or even two.I don't know exactly how it works for other writer-type people; but me, when I'm enmeshed in the writing process--whether for creative or corporate purposes--I tend to obsess about it. It gets ugly. I wind up thinking about the work roughly 70% of the time--whether I'm playing with my daughter, wrestling with my habitual plaguing insomnia (which,

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1123660250902922682005-08-10T15:41:00.000+08:002005-08-10T15:58:14.253+08:00

Because Sassy tagged me, and it’s never wise to ignore a lawyer...Total Number of Books I OwnYou must be joking. I’m pretty sure I own more books than any other single class of things. I have more books than clothes, for example. More books than, say, forks. Certainly more books than money; and all too often, more books than good sense. Definitely more books than I am willing to count, and that

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1123517837913690162005-08-09T00:04:00.000+08:002005-08-09T10:38:23.136+08:00

Dean says it’s okay for me to talk about this, so I will try to recount the events that occurred in a sober, adult fashion.Holy fucking shit, I fucking won a fucking Palanca award!Ahem. Okay. Now on with our tale...So I was on the phone with Marc, who is my number one copywriting client (in terms of both quantity and quality--if you ever have the chance to work with/for Marc, do). The doorbell

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1123495414074449452005-08-08T17:58:00.000+08:002005-08-08T18:03:34.086+08:00

I am sooo happy at the moment, but I don't think I can tell you why. (I mean, aside from the fact that I find my blog sooo pretty and other people seem to think so too.) It all has to do with the LBC guy who arrived at my doorstep this afternoon. If you know what I mean, then you know what I mean. Otherwise, fear not, Constant Reader, all will be revealed in time.

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1123438556874847462005-08-08T02:02:00.000+08:002005-08-08T02:31:15.933+08:00

Welcome to the redesigned Contradiction in Terms!Yup, it’s officially been two years since I was dragged (kicking and screaming, note) into the blogosphere, which is why I had to take a break to make a new look for Blog (who doesn’t have a very creative name, but at least he’s pretty) on his birthday.There are just a couple of new features y'all might want to check out: my virtual pet (in homage

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1123220275406096772005-08-05T13:36:00.000+08:002005-08-05T13:37:55.413+08:00

Just so's y'all know, I'm all but done with the redesign. Expect me to start posting Actually Interesting Stuff again by this coming Tuesday at the latest.

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1122975586090769082005-08-02T17:32:00.000+08:002005-08-02T17:39:46.096+08:00

In other words, it is now August, which is the blog's birthday month, which means I'll be busy for the next week or so redesigning. So look out for the new Contradiction in Terms by Friday! (Or, y'know, thereabouts...)

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1122457436709988972005-07-27T15:52:00.000+08:002005-07-27T17:53:21.366+08:00

Warning: This is a "mommy post", so if you're not interested in books for very young kids, or don't have any kids in your life that you're interested in reading to, you may want to skip it.My good friend Pauline (pronounced Pawleen in New Jersey, where she lives, haha!) wrote to ask me for recommendations for children's books. She's a reader like me, and her son Dylan is about the same age as my

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1122360571064329422005-07-26T14:40:00.000+08:002005-08-08T02:21:57.203+08:00

Once, a man named Magbangal told his wife, "My wife, tomorrow I am going to clear our field. I do not want you to come with me--you must stay here at home." The next morning he took his ten axes, his bolos, his sharpening stone, and a bamboo tube full of water, and set off for the field alone.When he reached their field, he cut some wood and made the wood into a bench. He sat down on the bench

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1122276355036401482005-07-25T15:22:00.000+08:002005-07-26T14:20:16.106+08:00

I've been meaning to share these hilariously misinterpreted lyrics with you guys for a while. Since it's a holiday here in Manila, I figure it's the perfect time for a short and silly post like this...sung to the tune of Outkast's "Heya":"My baby don't mess around because she's just so-so.Lea... Lea..."

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1122017974994652412005-07-22T15:30:00.000+08:002005-07-22T15:41:56.453+08:00

Not quite as sweet as the one where Dean called me his "life", but vaguely reminiscent. It happened like this: Sage and I were happily blowing bubbles, an activity we both enjoy despite the fact that we inevitably end up soaking ourselves and the nearby floor area in bubble solution.Since I had just created a particularly large bubble, Sage praised me: "Wow, Mommy, you're so good at blowing!"To

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1121930614473166872005-07-21T13:53:00.000+08:002005-07-21T15:30:35.700+08:00

Not my favorite scenes from movies, but rather, movies that have in some way marked moments of my life.Grease. The first movie I ever watched in a theater. Actually, at that time, about the only place you could watch movies was in a theater. Betamax was still several years away, and its successors yet undreamt-of in the minds of the public. Probably having a musical as my very first film

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1121756657870836642005-07-19T13:37:00.000+08:002005-07-19T15:15:06.446+08:00

Last Saturday night (Sunday morning, really), Dean, Vin, Andrew, and I got to talking about the 5 "M"s--in other words, the five attributes that Filipino males supposedly look for in a prospective girlfriend. It's a rather horrifying list, really: Maganda (pretty), Malambing (affectionate), Masunurin (obedient), May Telepono (has a phone), Malapit ang bahay (lives nearby).Now, this is a mostly

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1121665275391494262005-07-18T13:03:00.000+08:002005-07-18T13:44:36.056+08:00

There are people who are convinced that I'm some kind of fabulous chef--which is amusing since, in reality, I am possibly the laziest cook in existence. I scramble eggs straight in the pan not because it makes them fluffier, as some claim, but simply because I cannot bear the thought of having to wash one measly extra bowl. If I didn't have one of those egg-slicing gizmos, I'd probably never add

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1121410711960264302005-07-15T14:53:00.000+08:002005-07-15T14:58:31.966+08:00

... this hilarious post on Jesus' ethnicity, by Chin. I'm running late today (thanks to a particularly frisky husband, home from work for the afternoon!), so Chin will just have to amuse you. Thanks, girl, demented!

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1121327471641538312005-07-14T15:21:00.000+08:002005-07-14T15:52:23.763+08:00

My Caucasian stepfather is under the impression that five cars on the road constitutes traffic.As a (practically) life-long Metro Manila dweller, I find this laughable. Anyone who lives in our fair Philippine capital knows that having only five cars around you means one of two things: (a) it's three a.m. on a Sunday, or (b) someone is holding a coup and no one told you about it.It's kind of sad,

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1121233568398786642005-07-13T13:20:00.000+08:002005-07-13T13:50:40.323+08:00

I was all stressed out because my Beloved Mobile Phone refused to charge.Given my horrendous inability to budget my own money (I am very responsible with family funds, but with my personal cash, my wallet is like a sieve), I was dreading the astronomical expense of having to buy new parts, a new battery, a new charger, or--worst of all, gasp--a new phone.Unlike a lot of women, I'm actually pretty

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1121149323739454592005-07-12T13:12:00.000+08:002005-07-12T14:32:10.666+08:00

Male friends of all flavors are always saying this to Dean: "Gee, you're so lucky. I wish I could find a Nikki of my own..." I find this immensely and invariably flattering; I also don't believe a word of it.Listen:I'd wager my wardrobe that the moment Dean fell irrevocably in love with me was the moment I told him to his face that he was an asshole--with no anger or agenda, just a simple

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1120899336804604502005-07-09T16:51:00.000+08:002005-07-09T16:55:36.806+08:00

...of Hollywood Reality, inspired by Melissa:8. The thicker the non-American accent, the higher the probability of eeevil. Women with pronounced accents are sexy and bad; or just sexy; or just bad. Men with pronounced accents are slightly bad, thoroughly bad, or Jean-Claude Van Damme.

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1120899085157422152005-07-09T15:27:00.000+08:002005-07-09T16:51:25.730+08:00

I finally decided to listen to my big brother's diet advice.Although he is a certified fitness consultant, I've been ignoring him for years, because, well, he's my brother. If any of you actually think sibling advice should be automatically listened to, you probably don't have siblings--or at least, not the kind who told you, when you were six, that sunbeams could be trapped and held in the palm

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1120713827004246842005-07-07T13:17:00.000+08:002005-07-07T13:27:27.756+08:00

A couple of weeks ago, our daughter Sage was showing off her new vocabulary words, as we all hung around in our bedroom."Mommy," she explained to me, "Daddy is your husband.""Yes, he is," I confirmed. "What a smart little girl you are!""And Daddy," she continued, "Mommy is your life.""Sage!" I protested, laughing. "I'm Daddy's wife, not his life!"From his place in front of his computer, Dean

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1120633495450263542005-07-06T13:58:00.000+08:002005-07-06T19:08:58.410+08:00

Last night, Dean and I got to watch part of Mr. and Mrs. Smith on DVD. I say "part" because my foolish husband bought the pirated copy from a merchant other than our trusted supplier, Billy the Pirate. Thus, two-thirds of the way into the movie, we got a freeze-frame and the film refused to progress from there.Argh! I'd been enjoying it a great deal, so we're just going to have to get a proper

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1120544174306994352005-07-05T14:08:00.000+08:002005-07-05T14:16:14.310+08:00

Part Three of Three“Stupid chicken!” they could hear the siokoy shouting, as they settled in for a landing on the sandy sea floor. “Useless, stubborn, ugly, stupid chicken!”“Don’t call my chicken names!” cried Menggay, jumping out of the boat and running to pick up her pet--which was looking mostly scared and lonely, but also a bit insulted as the merman continued to yell at it. There were

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1120543408172168442005-07-05T13:56:00.000+08:002005-07-05T14:08:34.246+08:00

Jovan is the Awesome Art Director for Mango Jam; and she apparently reads my blog (the lurker!) because, directly following my related post, she sent me this:Erika Pangan's fan art of my Jam character TwilightNine years old, and this kid draws better than I do. Of course, drunk platypuses (platypi?) probably draw better than I do, but you know what I'm sayin', right?Thanks, Erika; and thanks,

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1120457277666962422005-07-04T14:00:00.000+08:002005-07-04T14:12:58.893+08:00

Last night, Dean and I had the pleasure of watching Spellbound, the completely enthralling, engaging documentary about the U.S. National Spelling Bee. We were amazed to learn that some kids spend up to nine hours a day, six months a year preparing for these things... Even scarier, some of the parents are so into it that they, too, devote a huge chunk of their time, eschewing any semblance of a

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1120287319861652582005-07-02T14:04:00.000+08:002005-07-04T13:11:36.666+08:00

Yesterday I picked up issue 3 of Mango Jam at Comic Quest. As a staff writer of this bi-monthly mag, I actually get a complimentary copy; but what with gasoline prices and the Very Reasonable Cost of Jam (70 bucks), it actually comes out cheaper for me to buy my own copy than to haul over to Makati and get my freebie. So I just pick up the comp copy when I happen to get together with redoubtable

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1120196021664196172005-07-01T13:26:00.000+08:002005-07-01T13:42:21.023+08:00

I was window-shopping with Sage today when I heard the woman next to me say to the sales clerk, “Ikuha mo nga ako ng ganito.”Which translates roughly as: “Get me one of these, SLAVE!”Okay, technically, the word “slave” wasn’t actually spoken anywhere in that sentence--but it fuckin’ well sounded like it should be. It really, royally pisses me off when people are so downright rude to other people

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1120024779204015662005-06-29T13:30:00.000+08:002005-06-29T14:07:54.063+08:00

I have a pair of brothers who happen to be fraternal twins*--which means they were born within minutes of each other, but don't look any more alike than the rest of us siblings. Growing up, they weren't particularly "twinnish". They shared a mutual interest in comic books and martial arts, but then, so do a lot of boys. So do I, for that matter! They did sort of have their own "twin-speak"... but

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1119882635446858722005-06-28T00:00:00.000+08:002005-06-27T22:38:54.726+08:00

Part Two of Three“I do not know this blue-skinned man,” said the farmer next door, when Menggay asked him. “But here, I will give you this milk from the carabao you helped cure. It is thick and goes down smoothly; maybe it can help make your journey smoother.”Menggay thanked the farmer and put the bottle of milk in her little bag, where it clinked gently against the bottle of water her mother had

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1119507164421199622005-06-23T13:38:00.000+08:002005-06-23T14:12:44.426+08:00

I've always found it strange that men are reputed to have these eeevil locker-room discussions about sex, when, in my experience, they don't. I mean, sure, they'll talk about it in general; they'll boast about past exploits (assuming they've had them) with all the requisite preening and "hur-hur-hur"-type laughter. But it doesn't actually happen all that often, and it almost never involves the

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1119335955183240202005-06-21T13:52:00.000+08:002005-06-27T22:31:04.176+08:00

Part One of ThreeOnce, a little girl named Menggay had a pet chicken that could do magic.It was a odd-looking chicken--black where it should have been brown, and brown where it should have been black--and it acted oddly, too. While all the other chickens in her family’s yard would rush forward at feeding time and gobble up every grain of chicken feed that Menggay scattered on the ground for them,

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1118801805630858022005-06-15T10:02:00.000+08:002005-06-15T10:16:45.636+08:00

Elbert will be the first to tell you this isn't actually quite me--too "nice", too squeaky-clean. However, if you just imagine that the left hand, tucked discreetly downward, is secretly making a Very Impolite Gesture with the fingers, then it represents me quite admirably: waving on the outside, smirking on the inside.Because my feeling is, life is too short not to make fun of it. I'm a flash

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707283.post-1118656752858112222005-06-14T00:46:00.000+08:002005-06-14T01:04:05.990+08:00

It all started when I was eleven, I figure, when my French friend Nathalie introduced me to Noxzema at a sleep-over. It was a revolutionary idea in itself: that I might want to do more for my face than just scrub it with whatever soap happened to be in the shower stall at the moment. I dutifully tried it out, however; and, as promised, my skin did seem instantly healthier, glowier, just

Nikkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08859864566677329466noreply@blogger.com